


Silk Tie

by Racethewind_10



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: D/s, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Smut, undertones of dominance and submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3155117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Racethewind_10/pseuds/Racethewind_10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina looks calm, her eyes soft in the warm lamp light of their bedroom, but there is a weight to the silence, a charge on the air that raises the fine hair at the nape of her neck and sends her heart beating faster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk Tie

**Author's Note:**

> Emma, Regina, a quiet night and a shift in their relationship. Contains very, very mild D/s undertones and reference to past acts of D/s. Its mostly just shameless smut.

Inspired by [Webgeekist's art](http://webgeekist.tumblr.com/post/107664345956/the-lightest-tug)

* * *

 

It starts with a breath. Just one, and not even the whole of it, just a catch like a single flaw in a yard of silk. It starts by accident, with a teasing threat and lips soft on a bared shoulder and Emma, her attention focused on the taste of Regina's skin under her tongue, takes Regina's arms and guides them behind her back, trapping Regina's hands between their bodies. Emma does it gently, without thought or design, just because she can, but Regina's breathing, steady and strong and deep, catches.

Emma freezes, steps back a little, fear a cold spike in her chest as she fumbles for apologies because she knows Regina's past, knows that at times she was trapped, forced. It’s part of why they normally fit so well together, like two puzzle pieces; Regina's occasional need to  _control,_ to see her will given perfect form and Emma's desperate longing to be wanted, to be _kept_ ,  to lay aside the burdens of daughter and sister and Savior until she can be just Emma again.  In the daylight and the twilight and the soft grey of early morning they are equals, bickering, bantering, challenging, arguing, fighting, a constant push and pull that keeps them both balanced, keeps them both standing tall and strong. 

But sometimes, in the deepest hours of the night when sleep has failed to offer respite, when slender arms aren't enough shelter, the scales tips farther. Sometimes, when the sun seems so far away and the lessons of past lives and past losses seems so very close, one needs to _give_  and the other to  _take_ , and equality becomes about balancing opposing forces than a contest of wills.

Regina has claimed Emma in a hundred ways; collared her and bound her, left the imprint of her teeth and bruises in the shape of her mouth all over that pale golden skin. She has demanded obedience, right down to the very moment of orgasm, which she can order with a whisper, her breath warm in Emma's ear even as Regina's fingers leave reddened marks on Emma's arms. 

There is a shelter in those moments and the aftermath few would understand, when Emma shudders into Regina’s skin, when gentle fingers card through sweat-dampened blond hair and soft praise is whispered against parted lips. Its safety and grace, a benediction followed by moments of stillness, of calm that they so rarely find outside these walls.

More than one anniversary has passed since they became “they” and not just “Emma and Regina” but it’s always been Emma who has needed to give up control, who desires to submit.  

So perhaps it surprises them both when Regina turns and there is no fear in dark eyes. Full red lips are pulled upward just the merest fraction, enough that Emma's own heart falls back down out of her throat. "Don't be sorry," Regina says softly. Her expression is unreadable, even to Emma who has immersed herself in the study of all things Regina Mills, learned to discern the smallest changes in her tone, her smile, in the straightness of her spine and the tension in her shoulders. "You did nothing wrong," and her voice is soft, soft like the hand that cups Emma's cheek, soft like the lips that press against hers, soft like the feeling of Regina's body against her own and Emma forgets. 

Until she doesn't. 

She's careful, but she tests. A tighter hold, a bolder kiss, the fabric of a shirt strained as it traps Regina's arms at her sides in the kitchen, against the door, bending over a desk. Always in the daylight, though, in the evening, in the soft grey light of the morning when they are equals, when there is glaring and laughter and eye rolling and breathless demands far more endearing than terrifying and she is careful but she learns to read that catch in Regina's breathing, learns to look for the parting of full lips and the glazing of those beautiful dark eyes. 

Regina knows, and Emma sees herself being watched, their gazes holding each other, searching for the words they don't speak, watching for the signal that it’s too much. 

It's Regina who takes the step Emma thought would be hers, though looking back, she knows it had to be this way. It’s Regina who stands in their bedroom in her clothes from work, running the silk tie of her favorite robe through her hands, the fabric twining around her fingers, the light pouring through the bedroom window dancing across the surface so it looks almost alive. It’s a sight that makes Emma pause. Regina looks calm, her eyes soft in the warm lamp light of their bedroom, but there is a weight to the silence, a charge on the air that raises the fine hair at the nape of her neck and sends her heart beating faster. 

In the end, they speak as they always have, with actions, not words. Regina steps forward and hands Emma the tie, and Emma understands. She doesn't ask if Regina is sure of if she needs a safeword. The woman she loves would never offer this if she doubted herself and they aren't playing at games or disguises. Stop means stop in their bed. So Emma just nods and lets the hunger in her chest blossom into a smile on her face. 

With deft movements, she takes the silk and wraps it several times around her own wrist. It can wait. For now, she cups Regina's face in her hands, cradling the perfect line of her jaw and brushing a tender thumb over those full red lips that she doesn't hesitate to kiss, soft and slow. They have all night. 

Emma plans to make this last. 

"Don't move," she whispers against Regina's cheek, pulling away at the careful nod she receives. 

Emma undresses Regina. 

Disrobing is a routine they have cemented with a thousand repetitions, but tonight Emma has to work to keep her hands from trembling as she unfastens each button, as she lets wool and silk warm from Regina's body slide slowly over proud shoulders and down slender arms. She lets her fingertips trail along behind, a whisper of a caress barely more than the fabric itself. Goosebumps rise in her wake. 

When she feels the urge to kiss bared skin, she relents without hesitation, savoring the hitch in Regina’s breathing, the flush that spills over her chest, the soft sighs of pleasure.

Emma kneels, almost supplicant, to help Regina out of her skirt and heels. She rises possessive, though, her hands and lips marking the body beneath as _hers,_ from the delicate arch of a foot to the delicate curve of a waist to the swell of perfect breasts, the bronze undertones of Regina’s skin picked out by the warm light of the room unhidden by clothing now. Only when Regina stands in just her bra - black and lacy and Emma can actually _feel_ her self-control start to evaporate - does Emma speak. "Turn around," she commands softly and Regina obeys. The line of her shoulders is soft and relaxed, the rise and fall of her chest steady, and so Emma undoes the clasp of her bra and lets it fall away, a scrap of shadow forgotten at their feet. 

Then, and only then, does she unwrap the silk from her wrist. In an echo of that first time, that first catch of breath, Emma guides Regina's hands behind her body, only this time, she presses the delicate wrists together and slowly, slowly winds the silk around the fragile joints. 

Something happens when she finishes, some shift in the gravity beneath their feet and Regina sighs, her shoulders softening further, hands relaxing. It’s almost imperceptible, would be invisible to anyone else but Emma who watches, and Emma who understands. Emma holds the end of the silk tie like a leash and everything inside her head fades away, her mind quiet and still, all her attention focused on the woman in front of her, the woman bound to her will, if only for a little while. 

"Beautiful," she whispers, barely aware she's spoken until she hears the change in Regina's breathing. It’s the one that says the compliment was unexpected, was perhaps...needed. 

For all the masks they present to the world, there are so many wounds in both of them that will never fully heal. 

So Emma says it again, and again and again, whispering the words against the line of Regina’s spine like a prayer as she steps close, pulls the smaller woman against her, feels the slight tremor in her arms and the warmth of Regina's skin through her own clothes. And Emma has never been one for faith but oh, if this was Church, she'd worship every day, down on her knees till they bled and thankful for the privilege.  Her hands roam unheeded, following no particular directive but to  _touch._ Regina's skin is warm silk beneath her palms and Emma thinks that no matter how long she lives she will never tire of this, of the racing pulse that beats beneath her palm when she pauses below the sweep of Regina's ribcage, the feel of a nipple hardening beneath her fingertips, the way the curve of Regina's breasts fit so perfectly in her hands, the way she  _feels,_ so slight and strong and alive in Emma's arms, held firm and safe in a fierce embrace.

For all the gentleness and care she takes, though, at the core they still burn too brightly. Emma's own arousal is slicking the tops of her thighs and her heartbeat is no longer steady. The urge, the need to hold and have and possess is growing and she knows this won't last much longer, that it will culminate like so many times before, with lips and tongue and fingers and wet wet heat and Regina's cries echoing off the walls. 

They aren't finished just _yet_ though, and Emma leaves off dropping little kisses across Regina's shoulder blade to unwrap her wrists, movements swift and sure, the order to turn around leaving no room for argument. Not that Regina would give it, not now when the sight of her - blown pupils and parted lips and color high and bright in her cheeks, nipples hard and begging for touch - nearly undoes Emma on the spot. She's shaking when she re-ties the silk with Regina's hands in front of her this time and Emma’s voice cracks when she orders the other woman onto the bed, moves with her and loops the end of the tie around the post. It’s purely symbolic, a decent tug could undo it, but Regina makes no such move. She lies, spread out across the covers of their bed, and she looks...calm, quieter than Emma remembers in a long time. 

It’s a feeling Emma understands well, but she herself is struggling to maintain any semblance of calm even as she stands frozen, enraptured by the rare gift of just being able to  _look_ at Regina like this, naked and quiet and fearless. "Spread your legs for me," she demands, or tries to. The syllables crack, and its more plea than anything but Regina obeys, opening herself to Emma's gaze and bending her knees and Emma can see how wet she is and it’s the last straw. 

Emma's jacket makes a muted thump when it hits the floor, her boots slightly more definitive, and then her too-hot-too-tight skin is blessedly exposed to the air but she pays no attention because all that matters is crawling onto the bed and kissing Regina with all the pent up need that's been building since she walked into the bedroom. Her tongue is in Regina's mouth and her lips are urgent, demanding, but Regina doesn't press back, just takes and takes, swallowing Emma's moan and pulling her deeper. It’s almost embarrassingly quick after that but Emma can't help it. She needs to touch, to know the texture of Regina's nipples against her tongue, to wrap her hands around trembling thighs, pushing them farther apart so she can settle between them and put her mouth to Regina's sex, tongue stroking and parting that wet silky flesh, lips wrapping around a swollen clit and sucking, sucking until Regina is arching off the bed and keening. 

Emma takes her with fingers next, steady at first, then hard and demanding, pulling the orgasm from deep within Regina and watching the line of her jaw and the way her knuckles go white as she fists her hands, soaking up the broken sounds she makes, the way her hair has come out of its tight pins to spill over the pillows.  Emma wants to get the harness from the nightstand, wants to kneel between Regina's legs and watch as the toy penetrates her, filling her slowly, steadily, until they are pressed together and she can hold Regina with both arms, press her down into the cradle of the covers and take her, again and again, but not tonight. Tonight is for firsts, for careful, for being safe. 

There will be other times they won't have to be. 

That knowledge doesn’t make it any less difficult to slow down, to pull back and let her head rest on Regina's stomach as the other woman's harsh breathing slowly evens out; doesn’t make it any easier not to be too demanding when she crawls up the bed and carefully, carefully straddles Regina's shoulders and grips the headboard as that very knowing, very skilled mouth pushes her over the sharp edge of pleasure. 

Only when Emma’s own breathing is steady again does she untie Regina's hands but oh… _Oh._ Suddenly there’s no air left in the room because Regina is sated and heavy-lidded, her smile soft and limbs pliant, Emma still glistening on her lips and contentment in every line of her body.  Emma undoes the tie from the headboard but doesn't unwrap the silk from Regina's wrists, instead using it to pull Regina into her arms once more, gathering that slight form against her and holding her tightly, pausing only to wave a lazy hand at the light, her magic bathing the room in darkness. 

Then, and only then, with their bodies cooling and hearts slowing, with Regina's breath warm on her neck and bodies pressed together, does Emma ask if this was okay, if Regina is alright. 

"It was perfect," comes the low, whiskey and cigarettes reply that is always Regina's voice after really good sex. It makes Emma just a little smug. 

She can still feel the silk where Regina’s hands are pressed against her chest, caught between them once more, but the smaller woman shows no signs of wanting to move and so Emma waves her hand again and the covers appear over them, settling down gently as if tossed by an expert hand. 

Outside the night is deep, but Regina is falling asleep in her arms, Emma's own body is languid with more than physical release, pulling her toward Morpheus’ embrace. There is something light and warm in her chest, though, something that signals another beginning, another facet to the complexities between them.  Something she will think about tomorrow because tonight the darkness is free of shadows and her mind is clear and calm, completely at peace.

 

FIN

 


End file.
